difficult to see the police line clearly, through the rain, and through the water running off my balding head. My coat didn’t have a hood, and I’d forgotten my hat.
‘‘I’ve got a dead officer over there,’’ I said, pointing. ‘‘I’m going over to him as soon as we get Lamar out. One of you want to come too?’’
‘‘I will.’’ She was one of the EMTs with the stretcher, and was a bank clerk. I knew her too. She looked like she was squatting down in a shower, with the rain running down her face. Or the sweat. It was ungodly hot under the raincoats.
‘‘Okay.’’
I put my hand on the lead EMT. ‘‘Look, as soon as you leave with him, I’m going to stand up and talk to one of the people in the buildings. I’m gonna tell him what I’m gonna do, and then I’m gonna do it. I’ll wait till you’re back under cover at the ambulance before I do it. But if I motion you back, we can pick up the dead officer, too. Okay?’’
‘‘Got it.’’
That’s what I did. As soon as I saw the three of them back at the ambulance, I stood up, and bent to tap the one left with me. We had remained in full view of the shed all the time, so there wasn’t any doubt who we were. ‘‘Here goes. Wait for my signal.’’ I hoped that the people back at the ambulance area could see us clearly.
I straightened up, and walked slowly toward the shed.
‘‘Stop right there, Carl.’’
It was old man Stritch himself in the shed. I could recognize his voice, especially when he said my name. He always had pronounced it like there was a u after the r. Good to know. He would pay, sooner or later.
‘‘I’ve got a dead officer over there, Herman. We’re going to remove him too.’’
‘‘Only if I say so.’’
‘‘I ever lie to you, Herman?’’
He thought. ‘‘No.’’
‘‘Then believe me now. We’re going to get him now, and if we don’t, there won’t be a living person on this farm in ten minutes. We don’t want that, but we’ll do it. And you know we can.’’
He thought again. I was right, at least about our being able to do it. Right at that moment anyway. As it turned out, it would be the last time for quite a while.
‘‘Go ahead.’’
‘‘The offer still stands, if you’ve got anybody hurt. We’ll get medical treatment for ’em. No strings.’’
‘‘We’re fine.’’
Shit.
I heard a beep, and I thought I heard him say, ‘‘Hello.’’ Phone in the shed. Neat. Lots of farmers had them in the barn, or the milk house. Why not a shed? It had just never occurred to me.
I turned and motioned to my EMT. She came directly to me, and together we went to Bud’s body.
He was crumpled up, but it looked like he’d been hit several times, at least once in the head. His handgun was still in its holster, the retaining strap still snapped. We bundled him up as best we could, and as I turned to signal the ambulance, it began to leave. I learned later that Lamar was beginning to ‘‘sour’’ on the EMTs; a term they use when they think they’re going to lose a patient. It only threw me for a second. Hell. Bud wasn’t going to need any treatment. I walked slowly back to the shed.
‘‘Herman!’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Herman, we’re going to have a couple of officers come in and help get Bud out. The EMTs have left in the ambulance, and we want Bud out now. Don’t shoot.’’
He didn’t say anything. I took that for assent. I was getting a little shocky myself, by this time, as the adrenaline was starting to wear off, and was getting an attitude.
I hollered toward the line of officers back in the lane, who were out of sight of the shed, but not the house. I told them to leave any long guns back there and to come on in and help us. Three of them came in, and together we wrapped Bud in a blanket and carried him back to the police lines. He was a heavy load, and with the plasticized blanket being wet, we nearly dropped him twice. I had a cramp in my carrying hand by the time we got to the cars.
I went back into the yard, at first just to get my car, but then saw my rifle near my hiding place. I couldn’t leave that. And it was getting soaked. I would have hoped that another officer would have retrieved it. No such luck. Then I decided I wanted to talk to Herman again. What the hell. I was on a roll.
‘‘Herman!’’ You asshole.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘I’m taking my car out. I want to talk to you. Give it up, Herman. We have enough people hurt now. Why don’t you just come on out?’’
‘‘Go to hell.’’
At that point, the door to the house opened, and the young man came out. He walked up to me. He was wearing a cammo raincoat with a hood, and he had put on fatigue pants and boots. The title of a movie came into my mind: A Soldier in the Rain. ‘‘Soldier’’ being the key word.
‘‘You better get out of here,’’ he said, stopping about twenty feet away.
I just looked at him. ‘‘I’m going over here, and I’m picking up my rifle, and putting it in my car.’’
‘‘Leave your rifle.’’
I was getting angry. ‘‘Listen, kid. One time. Don’t fuck with me. I said I’m getting the rifle, and that’s what I’m gonna do.’’
‘‘Dad’s got a bead on you, cop.’’
‘‘I’m sure he does. And I can kill you before the old fart gets off the first round.’’ Our eyes met. I shook my head in disgust, turned my back on him, walked to the post, and picked up my rifle. I was very, very careful to pick it up by the carrying handle on top. No point in pushing it too far.
As I got to my car, Junior spoke up again. ‘‘We’ll see you in the People’s Court!’’
‘‘Only for contempt, dickhead.’’
I got in my car and backed up the lane.
Fourteen
Any relief I felt about having gotten our people out of there lasted about five seconds after I got my car back to the top of the lane. As I was backing up, I thought about the People’s Court. I passed the sign, warning all to stay away. It was almost a billboard, being about eight feet by eight feet, white, with black lettering. Well maintained too. Stupid bastards. But to kill over an Original Notice? Hard to believe.
Several of the state TAC team officers had arrived, ready to go. They were being held back by the district lieutenant, who was waiting confirmation from the captain. Two of our people were there, Eddie and Tom Meierhoff. As I was mentally listing who else from our department might show up, it suddenly occurred to me that I had just been promoted. Lamar was out of it. Art was on vacation. I was senior officer, and de facto acting sheriff. Damn. Maybe I could find time to order cellular phones.
I talked to our people first, standing in a huddle under a tree. The wind had died down, and we just had a steady, heavy rain.
They wanted to know what had happened, and I really didn’t know. It was that simple. Just that two of our people were shot, and one was dead. That much I knew. As to why, I had a problem. As far as I could tell, it was over the service of an Original Notice. It did occur to me, however, that Deputy Johansen had just come back to work after taking a leave of absence after the killings in the park.
‘‘Ed, let the office know,’’ I said, ‘‘that Johansen is to be in charge at the office. Not up here. He doesn’t need another one of these.’’
‘‘Right.’’
That’s what I told the lieutenant as well when I sloshed over to him. Along with the fact that Herman was a little further to the right than most, and was heavily into organizations. And well armed, although I’m sure the
